Shortly after my arrival on Friday evening I was dragged into the pub quiz, where my specialist subject turned out to be listing the seven Latin noun cases (nom voc acc gen dat abl and the LOCATIVE used for towns small islands domus and rus as any fule kno). My teammates were greatly impressed.
Saturday was spent checking out the various attractions of the Dealers' Den and Art Auction, presenting on writing panels, and hanging out in the bar with whoever happened to be around.
On Sunday I awoke to many Twitter notifications and the news that my short story 400 Rabbits had won the 2016 Cóyotl Award for best short story. Lots of people came up to congratulate me, and it really made my con.
Ultrafox and I made our now-traditional foray outside the convention hotel for something approaching normality and decent grub, which on this occasion turned out to mean Nando's at the Resorts World shopping centre.
The day ended with Bedtime Stories, an event at which fellow-author Kandrel and I read our work aloud. It's one of my favourite bits of the convention, as I get to hear and see the reaction to something I've written. I read a story as yet unpublished, but about which I'm very excited, and got some nice feedback.
On Monday I lent my voice once again to reading out the entries for the five-sentence Flash Fiction competition, and we learned that if you put a free text field on the internet, someone will type 'fart' into it.
My day ended with a room party in one of the executive suites, attended by many of the very nicest folk and punctuated by the now-traditional rounds of ssshing when things got too rowdy.
Then suddenly it was Tuesday, and time to depart. I got geared up, offered a round of sweaty biker hugs (not as good as sweaty fursuit hugs) to anyone who couldn't run away quickly enough, and departed.
I travelled south in a biker convoy with Bastett and JM Horse, and stopped off at their place for a cuppa before heading home, which was a lovely end to the convention.
It's always nice to see people I only see on this one annual occasion, and I especially enjoyed spending more time than usual with schnee, including a very civilised breakfast for two where we discussed Hemingway. (Breakfast was very good; I'd forgotten about the push-button tiny pancake dispenser where you watch a blob of batter fall onto a conveyer belt and cook to perfection before dropping on your plate.)
Someone asked me one evening how my con had been, and I realised that it just gets better and better. Every year I meet new people, and so every subsequent year I have more friends.